mercy removed my little one at so early an age that I did not feel the
loss as much as if it had lived longer, to engage my affections.

A circumstance now transpired which attracted my attention, and led me
to consider my situation, and whither I was hurrying. A lecture was
advertised to be delivered by the first reformed drunkard, Mr. I. J.
Johnson, who visited Newburyport, and I was invited by some friends,
who seemed to feel an interest, to attend and hear what he had to say.
I determined after some consideration to go and hear what was to be
said on the subject. The meeting was held in the Rev. Mr. Campbell's
church, which was pretty well crowded. I went to the door, but would
go no farther; but in the ten minutes I stood there, I heard him in
graphic and forcible terms depict the misery of the drunkard and the
awful consequences of his conduct, both as they affected himself and
those connected with him. My conscience told that he spoke the
truth--for what had I not suffered! I knew he was right, and I turned
to leave the church when a young man offered me the pledge to sign. I
actually turned to sign it; but at that critical moment the appetite
for strong drink, as if determined to have the mastery over me, came in
all its force. Oh, how I wanted it! and remembering that I had a pint
of brandy at home I deferred signing, and put off to "a more convenient
season," a proceeding that might have saved me so much after sorrow.
I, however, compromised the matter with my conscience by inwardly
resolving that I would drink up what spirit I had by me, and then think
of leaving off altogether.

I forgot the impressions made upon me by the speaker at the meeting.
Still, I madly drained the inebriating cup, and speedily my state was
worse than ever. Oh, no, I soon ceased to think about it, for my
master passion, like Aaron's rod, swallowed up every thought and